What He Heard
by Flamyrre
Summary: What did Dudley really hear that night when the dementors appeared? Rating Might change...for violent bouts of nostalgic content [8 IT LOVES TO BE READ, THOUGH, SO READ IT FOR SURE!
1. Cheeked

What He Heard  
  
By Cuirinelle Flamyrre  
  
Chapter One – Cheeked  
  
I felt...satisfied?  
  
It was six in the evening, and the guys and I hadn't been able to pick a single fight yet. We spent the day throwing stones and pebbles at passerby cars and kids, spray-painting a double- parked truck in front of the park, and smoking a few joints together at the street corner, but other than that, the day had been quite...empty. The day was much less eventful than the others had been.  
  
It was Piers' idea to pick a fight with one of the younger kids. They're the ones who are stupid enough to give you the satisfaction of screaming, and not fighting back. We didn't have to look far to spot the day's final victim.  
  
About a dozen or two meters away sat a boy, about ten years old, sharing lunch with a girl around his age. They were chatting amiably and eating chips, occasionally stopping to sip their drinks. The boy kept blushing and smiling whenever the girl had something nice to say about him. I felt a twinge of jealousy.  
  
Piers nudged me and I saw the twinkle in his eye, signaling my advance on the boy. I was a tad hesitant, but I didn't want to seem like I was afraid. I snapped my fingers twice, my own signal, to get the boys circling our target. That was how it always started.  
  
The guys got on their racing bikes, and I got on mine; being far larger than the others, I had to get it factory made. Once we had circled our target, I saw the other kids in the park back off; they knew what was coming. The boy didn't even realize what had hit him until he noticed my shadow darken him. The girl had frozen, and she dropped her chip. The smile on her face seconds earlier was replaced with shock mingled with fear. I had no doubt she had heard of us.  
  
Piers left his bike and came to accompany me. He smirked when he saw the couple, frozen in their seats.  
  
"Well, well, well, what have we here? Joaquin Breve, is this your girlfriend? Oh, let's think..." He paused, pretending to look thoughtful.  
  
"Breve, what will your mum say when she hears of you two? I remember her after your brother eloped...My oh my, what will she say of her?" He pointed at the girl, whose face had suddenly flushed. The boy's face, however, was incredulous as well as defiant.  
  
"And?" He answered, looking not at all scared, and actually rather brave. He glanced at me and paled a shade.  
  
"Are you cheeking me, Breve?" Piers said, putting on a face of mock surprise.  
  
"And if I am?" The boy said, his voice rising an octave. He had turned a pale shade of green, and slowly rose off the bench. He was a full head shorter than Piers, and two heads shorter than me.  
  
Piers glanced at me. His expression had gone slightly sour. I knew this was my signal. Mustering all my energy in my right arm, I pulled it back and gave the boy a strong right hook, sending the boy sprawling; he had literally flown from the bench into the tree a few feet behind it.  
  
The girl had emitted a high-pitched scream and clasped her arms over her head. She quickly got away from the bench and ran towards the boy sprawled on the grass by the tree.  
  
I walked around the bench towards the two, advancing menacingly. A feeling of power raged through me.  
  
"Get up, Jo, GET UP!!" She tugged at the boy's arm and when he refused to get up, she got to her feet and attempted to haul him up herself. Her attempts were feeble, though, him being much larger than she.  
  
A large bruise was developing around the boy's jaw. As he saw me coming towards him, his eyes opened wide and he let out a loud squeal, not quite opening his injured mouth. Behind me, Piers and the others guffawed, amused. I stopped in front of the two and kicked the boy in the stomach. He let out several more squeals in a row, his face and body contracting in pain. The girl had begun to cry bitterly, and cowered over the boy's body, as though protecting him from any more blows. The boys began to laugh even louder at this. Piers wiped his mouth and came forward to join me at my side.  
  
"Don't ever – Ever – Cheek one of us again." Piers said slowly, looking satisfied, a smile still playing at his lips. Looking at his expression, I felt an identical one appear on my face. We then turned around and walked towards our racing bikes, away from the couple. I could hear the girl emitting curses and other various swearwords at us, but I pretended to not hear her.  
  
We walked together down the road towards the Crescent, where we usually split up. I felt rather subdued, though I can't still figure out why. The other boys continued to joke over the small fight and I laughed along with them, so as not to look suspicious. A lone figure was sitting alone on the swings that we passed, but I pretended to ignore it; it looked strangely formidable and familiar. Gordon began to sing a loud, crude song, obviously improvised, about his ex-girlfriend. We couldn't help but laugh at him. When we finally reached Magnolia Crescent, we stopped, ready to say goodbye for the day.  
  
"He squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcolm said, to guffaws from others.  
  
"Nice right hook, Big D," said Piers. I glowed.  
  
"Same time tomorrow?" I asked the lot of them.  
  
After a short silence, Gordon said, "Round my place, my parents are out."  
  
"See you then," I said, relieved that I wouldn't have to bring them to my home, knowing my Mum would go berserk if she saw the lot that I hung around with every day.  
  
"Bye Dud!"  
  
"See ya, Big D!"  
  
When they left, I started on my own way home, still glowing with pride that Piers had complimented on my right hook. I began to hum a bit tunelessly to a Beatles song I had heard on the radio from Malcolm's sister's room earlier this morning.  
  
"Hey Big D!" Someone was back, but I couldn't identify the voice. I turned to see who it was.  
  
I couldn't see as well in the dark, but sure enough, when I squinted, I saw.  
  
A lanky, skinny boy, dressed in baggy pants and a shirt, stood in front of me. He had messy, unruly dark hair, black-rimmed glasses, and bright green eyes that sparkled behind them. It was Harry Potter.

A/N: So how was it? r/r, plz.


	2. I know what you dream about

A/n: People, I don't have the book to write word for word, so please forgive me for not sticking verbatim to the book. But I assure you, you won't feel the difference. Thank you **That Lil' Ol' Blu Girl** for giving me an incentive to continue with the story. You rock! And so do you all other reviewers! Your words have power!

Again, review, and give me advice on how to continue sculpting Dudley!

**Chapter 2 – I know what you dream about**

He stood there, smirking amusedly at me. I glanced behind me to see if anyone was there.

"Big D, huh?" he continued. I felt the heat rise to my neck. I clenched my fists, resisting the growing urge to give him a right hook that would send him sprawling across the pavement, as I had done to Breve. I wanted to hurt him, to make him shut up. I hated when people talked to me like that. What right did he think he had? To talk to me like that? If it wasn't for his…_thing_ that he had with him all the time…I would have surely fixed the damned runt.

"So, _Duddikins_, do they know what your mum calls you?" He smirked. I didn't know what he was playing at, bringing my mother into it. What I would have done to hit him, right there and then.

He went on to say a whole lot more. I don't remember registering too much of it, but I remember my anger rising and rising. I worked my mind furiously to think of something smart to say to him. But nothing came.

I was never good with words. Harry always had the upper hand when it came to arguing. I, forever handicapped when it came to speaking, immediately relied on my physical strength and pals to play Harry down. I reveled in the way I used to be able to force Harry to physical submission, especially since he wasn't allowed to use his _thing _then. He would run away, forever attempting to avoid my punches and kicks. But then, when we found about his murderer godfather who broke loose from prison, it seemed we couldn't control him. If I had my friends with me, and he didn't have his _thing_, I could overtake him in a second. But here, I was alone. And I was sure he had his…his _wand_ with him. My hands unconsciously wandered to my backside.

I glanced at Harry, ripping my eyes away from the ground, hate overtaking me for the pain I had felt three years ago on the rock island, and for longer afterward. As though lightening had struck, I suddenly remembered something.

Late one night, I was passing by my other bedroom, which Harry had stolen from me, to the kitchen for a late night snack. I couldn't sleep, so I was hoping Chips Ahoy and a jug of milk would cure the insomnia. The bedroom door was open. And then, out of nowhere, I swore I heard a thud. I was scared as hell, but I wanted to know what had just happened. I could not think of any possible explanation. Carefully looking inside the room, I saw Harry lying down on the ground. He appeared to have fallen on the ground, amidst sheets and sheets of parchment and various books lying open. I blanched when I saw snowy white owl feathers littering the floor. Harry was all wound up in his bedcovers, a sheen of sweat evident on his face. I let out a small smile then but ended it just as soon, in case he would wake up suddenly and curse me to oblivion. Harry looked like he was tortured.

I was shocked, then, when he had moaned quite loudly, his face tense.

"_No! Don't kill…_" he said, almost hopelessly, in his sleep.

Needless to say, I was creeped out. I felt I had heard something very…confidential. Every night after that one, I would stop outside the room, and listen to him talk in his sleep. I was frightened at first, but I soon became foolishly curious and wanted to hear more and more. I was sure this was something Harry did not expect anyone else but himself to know about. What ammo I had against him, and what an opportune time to attack was at hand!

As if enlightened, my whole face brightened up at the memory.

Almost greedily, I began.

"I know what you dream about."

Harry looked at me like I was mad, but I continued with increasing confidence. He could make that expression all he wanted to, but this was my moment to hurt him, my moment to prove myself much more of a force to be reckoned with.

"Do you think no one would find out? '_Don't kill her, anyone but her!'_" I yelled gleefully. I felt high, as high as I had felt two weeks ago when I took a lungful of the joint that Malcolm had bought from the Greek dealer at the airport.

"What're you talking about?" He looked genuinely surprised for a moment, but I saw him force his face to look like he didn't know what I was talking about. But he knew, I knew he did!

"Oh, I saw you. Twisting and turning in your bed, you were, '_no!'_" I continued using the same high-pitched voice at the end to make my hit stronger. I felt a certain happiness evade my being as I struck this blow to him. With this said, I felt myself gaining a step ahead of him, hang a rung above him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He said quietly, almost threateningly. I didn't want to stop, though, not when I was on such a roll.

"'_No, please, don't kill her!'_" I continued, allowing my smirk to grow wider as his discomfort became more obvious. His hand clenched something in his pocket, and I saw him take it out. I was shocked. My glee drained away as quickly as it had come to me.

"You're not allowed to use that…that _thing_, Mum said your not allowed to, you can't-"

Something cut me off though. I could never complete what I wanted to say then, because just then, with Harry's wand held tightly in his hand, the coldest feeling in the world clenched my heart in a death grip.

a/n: So, how was it? Come on, tell me….don't be shy 


	3. Lit Out

**A/N**: Hey, this is a short chappie mostly because I wanted to give something in but watching something stole my muse as soon as I started. So bear with me, the next one will hopefully be longer. R/R –they really inspire me, ppl.

**Chapter 3 – Lit Out**

I felt as though someone had doused me in a cold shower. My heart seemed to be contracting uncontrollably. Harry was still pointing his wand at me, a strange light emitting from it. _Why is he doing this to me?_ I wanted to cry. He was making my breath come right out of me. I felt as though my _life_ was being sucked out of me. In its place a darkness, coldness had taken up, to reside therein forever and ever…

Harry's a freak. He hates me so much. That's why he was lying to me, whispering things to me in my ear. I would expect the damned son of a bitch to lie. But what he was making _them _tell me was not a lie. It could not be…How could it, when it had actually happened before, in reality and in dreams so many times before?

I thought I was dying, and all the lights in the world seemed to go out. I was in physical anguish, but I did not care. Not when everyone else seemed not to care. In my mind's eye, everyone was running away from me. Everyone except _them_.

There were noises, of shoes against the pavement, and the frightening shrilly laughs of girls. They were so faint at first, but their noise grew louder and louder, their physical selves so corporeal. I wanted to block them all out but it was impossible. They were gaining on me, and I backed up, tripping to the ground while I was at it.

I wanted to stop feeling the unconditional hatred they all had for me, I wanted it to stop. Why didn't anyone come and help me? Why didn't anyone _care_ about what might happen to me?

_No! Stop it! _A cold wave of pain passed over me and I felt dull, lifeless, and I didn't care what might happen to me then and there. Because there was nothing left to care about. Everything I cared about was _gone_.

**A/N**: so how was it? R/r, as I always remind you.


End file.
